


How Hard it Rains

by roguefaerie (samidha)



Series: Reconcilliation (Reaper Jessica Moore) [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A poly V, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Communication, Bad Decisions, Bad poly, Basically Dean's Been Breaking My Heart This Whole Time, Bemused Sam Winchester, Bisexual Jessica Moore, Bisexuality, Bittersweet, Bobby Singer Deals With Idjits, Bobby Singer is Asking Himself WTF, Bobby Singer is So Done, But Also This is Sam So Are We Surprised, But I'll Take It, But I'm gonna tell the story, Compersion, Dead Jessica Moore, Dean Has Been Staying the Fuck Away from John, Dean Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dean Has Powers, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Is Super Confused, Dean Winchester is Loved, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Dean is Riding in a Ship With a Ghost, Dean is a Softie, Episode: s03e10 Dream a Little Dream, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventually Dean Will Too, Healing, Healing PTSD, Helpful Sam Winchester, Honestly Sam is Being Weird, I Tried to do a Slow Burn and have partially succeeded, Jess Has Powers, Jessica Moore has Powers, John Winchester Lives, Lack of Communication, Mind Meld, Mind the Order on the shippiness, Nobody Ever Said This Was Healthy But What If It's Helping, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Over the Course of This Whole Thing, Poly V-ish stuff, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Probably fucked up, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, Psychic Dean, Reaper Jessica Moore, Reaper Politics, Sam Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sam Has Powers, Sam is Manipulative, Sam is Strangely Good at Feelings, Since This is the Third part, Slow Burn, Sort of Heartbroken Dean, Soul Bond, Spirit Guide Jessica Moore, This is 16k into the story, This is Book 3, Trust, Trying not to have pacing issues but sorry in advance, Unsure if this makes sense without the other parts, Welp I've Written Different Sams Than This, You're Welcome, so far - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-15 07:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13026468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/roguefaerie
Summary: Two years after Jessica Moore's death, she's still a factor in their lives. Dean's feelings are boiling over and driving him slightly up a wall. Sam has probably suspected for a while. Jessica Moore wants out of the spirit world if it means being with her boys. And Bobby Singer is confused and pretty pissed off.(In which Dean has every conceivable ability to know what people are thinking, but he really tries not to assume, especially if it's good things about him.)Reconcilliation 'verse book 3.Book 1: Definition of Hearts (complete) - Sam POVBook 2: Family Is (complete) - Jess POVBook 3: How Hard It Rains (complete) - Dean POVBook 4: Holding the Moon in Their Hands - Sam POV (complete)All plot is complete. May be occasional timestamps. Finishes with The Moon Finds Her Place in the Sky.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> There was a posting error with this...I thought I fixed it, but I hadn't fixed it, but now I think I fixed it in actual reality. Maybe.
> 
>  
> 
> Soundtrack: https://open.spotify.com/user/121274586/playlist/5fcxhwIWikl2cjAX7J4e4w
> 
> Book 1 covers the timeframe of S1.  
> Book 2 covers the timeframe of S2.  
> Book 3 covers the timeframe of S3.  
> Book 4 covers the timeframe of S4.
> 
> This probably doesn't make sense without parts 1 and 2 (about 16k)

Sam, Jess and Dean move as one toward the Impala. He and Sam are bracing each other as they walk. Both of them are shaken. He holds his words in until he’s touching the metal of his Baby. Under the metal he feels the thrum of whatever Jess was able to do to the car that means it’s no longer _driver picks the music_ but more like Reaper Radio. He needs it now, though he can barely hear the folk music Jess has pulled from nowhere-everywhere or however it works.

Sam would almost make fun of him, or he should be making fun of Sam. Maybe they would on another day.

Still, it’s got guitar and it’s vaguely comforting, and he thinks wildly about music from ghosts and how weird his life is.

Both he and Sam are just leaning against the car, soaking up strength. They exchange a look.

 _That wasn’t how their plan was gonna go_ , Dean said, keeping it quiet. Between him and Sam. Between the three of them.

 _I put a wrench in it_ , Jess said.

Sam grabbed Dean’s arm as the slight bend in his legs grew more pronounced and he might have, might have, hit the ground.

_Jess…_

Tired, wry amusement comes from Sam, but no words for a moment. Then-- _She has that effect on people._

The next person who bursts their little communication bubble, though, is Bobby. 

Of course it’s Bobby.

“Either of you two gonna explain to me what the hell I just saw?”

Light taps along the bond. They looked at Bobby, trying to appear nonplussed.

“Dean, you can barely stand up,” Bobby said.

Sam inched closer to Dean, and Dean tried to make an effort not to slouch further.

They watched Bobby together, trying to assess if he was angry.

Finally he sighed. “Sam. Was that your girl?” he asked.

Sam swallowed hard. Bobby looked between the two of them, wheels almost audibly spinning in his head. Sam wouldn’t lie.

“Yeah, Bobby, it was.”

“Violent death? Sam, you can’t just hold on--”

“Not exactly, Bobby. It’s….she’s….our…”

Dean clears his throat. “Our Reaper,” he says. “It’s like a…”

“ _Your_ Reaper? Boy, what have you gone and done?”

He swallows hard. Looks for Jess. But by now he knows the feeling of when Jess is in a meeting. She’s probably not having a good time in it, either.

“She helps us, Bobby,” he says, his voice still gruff.

“I don’t know what you two are up to. When I’m around that father of yours I get this feeling like I’m seein’ a ghost and you two aren’t lookin’ like you’re gonna end up in much better shape.”

“Bobby,” Sam says in that quiet, geeky-voiced way, “I understand how you--”

“No, Sam, you don’t,” Bobby says, cutting him off at the pass. “What’s dead should stay dead. So you don’t, kid, you don’t. Listen, I want the best for all of you but…” He sighs. “Maybe I’ll just catch you later, when you’ve got more of this sorted out. You’re playin’ with fire, and I’m not sure you even know it yet.”

Okay. Now. Now Bobby’s mad.

“I see your Dad, am I supposed to keep him away from you?” he asks Dean.

“Bobby I--”

“Answer the question, Dean.”

“Yeah. Yeah, Bobby. A little while longer. It’s like you said. We’ve got some stuff to sort out.”

He’s suddenly acutely aware of how close Sam is to him.

They can sort this out together, can’t they?

“Okay. I’ll buy you a little more time. But Dean, I’m not sure….if I really should be.”

He blinks up at Bobby, but says nothing. 

Bobby turns on his heel and Sam helps Dean into the Impala. 

“Okay,” Sam whispers, “Gotcha.” Like any of this is normal. Like every day Dean’s heart just shatters in his chest and Sam picks up the pieces. Because-- Because--

Because of course he would. If that were normal, of course he would. So he does now.

“Sam...I…”

“Ssh. It’s okay.”

“That place. It _was_ death. But...more than that.”

“I know, Dean, come on.”

“Something was...was supposed to happen, S-Sammy.”

Sam nods. He opens the Impala door and keeps steady hands on Dean as his older brother is engulfed by the bench seat.

“Breathe,” Sam says.

“I dunno how you’ve been doin’ this all this time like this,” Dean says, exhausted.

“Dean. Okay. How’re you feeling?”

“I don’t know, Sammy. I don’t--”

Sam climbs quickly into the other side of the car. “Dean. You’re safe. Okay? You’re safe.”

“I know that, Sammy. M’with you.”

“Am I safe, Dean?”

“‘Course, Sammy,” Dean says. “But I’m...I’m....”

“You’re not?” Sam finishes for him, still soft. It’s one of the longest conversations they’ve had out loud in a while, and both of them can’t help fitting pieces into the conversation on the mental level as they go.

“No, Sammy. Or I don’t know. You feel safe. She feels safe. She feels…”

_I know, Dean._

“So safe, oh, Jesus, Sammy, I wanted her in my family, I didn’t know….anyone could be in our family like that...like this…”

Sam sighs.

“She told me you didn’t think she could be either,” Dean said.

“No. Well, we don’t always know that kind of thing, Dean, or trust it. Listen… Whatever you feel…. If you feel safe… if you feel safe, that’s good, Dean….”

Dean laughs harshly. Pain and confusion ping around his mind, hard enough to show on his face.

“Sam…Don’t.”

Sam prepares the cushion of energy once more.

“I’m such a mess, we’re such a mess, don’t…”

“What do you want, Dean? What do you want the most? You can tell me the-- I’m your brother.”

Dean’s face hardens a little bit, but he says it anyway. “I want her to come home. I want her here with us. She--”

“She feels safe. I know.”

“Like coming home, Sam. There has to be a way. There has to be something we can do. I’ll do it. Sam, please. I’ll do it all.” Dean’s voice thickens. “Please.”

“I’m not angry, Dean,” Sam says softly. “If you need this...we’ll do it.”

“She saved us--both of us, Sammy, she saved our lives.”

Sam nods. “I know. I felt it too.”

“We were supposed to die there,” Dean whispers, “She….”

“She’s like holding the moon in your hand,” Sam replies, just as quietly. “I know.” Then, a little louder, “Dean, I’m not mad. Of course you’d feel how you feel.”

“What do we do now, Sammy?” Dean asks, completely unable to process at least half of what Sam’s been saying.

“You’ll find a way to bring her home,” Sam says, reverent and soft. “I know you will.”

Dean blinks. How is it that Sam doesn’t want to put him through a wall?

He hasn’t heard that unerring faith in him coming from Sammy since they were kids.

It shows how much he and Sam need this, the both of them. Somehow.

There’s a faint sound like a throat clearing from slightly to Dean’s left.

“Jess… Do you…. I’m sorry….”

_Dean, don’t. Don’t think you’ve been-- betraying me. Just...bring me home, Dean._


	2. Chapter 2

Music floats up and over Dean, the Reaper Radio. He should be asking Jess what it was like for her in Reaper land now, why she was ready to come home. He should be asking Sam-- how he could look at him, sit shotgun beside him like any of these questions were normal.

But all he could bring himself to do was drive and stare out at the empty road.

Sam indicated he was hungry at a rest stop about three hundred miles _just far enough away from that place_. “Let’s stop here, Dean,” he said, gentle as ever--and kind---Dean realized dimly that Sam was being kind to him.

His heart thudded in his ears. Nothing would ever be the same again and it was because he couldn’t just hold it in, couldn’t have spared them. “Sammy,” he started to say on autopilot. “I didn’t mean--”

“Dean. It’s okay. Let’s get some food, quick stuff, then I’ve got something to show you.”

Sam was true to his word. He brought Dean a pair of knock-off apple danishes and a Devil Dog. He swung his usual granola bar between his fingers a little so Dean could see it. Then he got back in the car. “Okay, eat something.”

Dean shakes his head a little. “Sam, how are you….”

“Eat, Dean.”

Dean takes a few bites of the first thing he grabs, the apple danish. Serves him right. He hasn’t earned any Devil Dogs. “Jess….Sam…”

“Okay, now lean back,” Sam says. “All the way.”

Dean feels the familiar cushioning effect of energy. His vision swims slightly. Then the cushion gives way.

Below it is only energy, a placid sea as the feelings from the bond wash over and over and over him. Sam and Jess, Jess and Sam, SamSamSam, JessJessJess.

 _You haven’t let yourself feel this yet._ The words would be far away if Sam was speaking them, but they come in clear mind to mind. _This is home too_.

“How…” Dean tried to force himself to make words, but Sam put a hand gently on his arm and he sunk deeper into the mind meld.

 _How?_ he asked.

_Practice. I’ve had more. It goes even deeper, Dean. We...we knew._

Dean pulled back. _No. No, Sammy. I’m…_

_Wrong? Is it wrong to love her? To love this?_

Dean swallowed hard.

_Rest, Dean. Rest right here. Stay right here._

_Sammy, I…_

_I’ve got you. Just let me, Dean._

Dean was engulfed in the sea of Jess-and-Sam.

_You came and got me. More than once now, Dean. Let me just…_

_Sam…_

_Let me give that back to you. We can do this. All of us. Together._

When Dean breathed again, he was breathing in love. And family.

He slept. When he woke again, swimming up from the energetic sea, the parking lot they were in was completely empty, and Sam had curled up against his side, arms draped around him again, fast asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super stressed, and playing escape into this 'verse, so I wrote another chapter. (Sad-Stressed Dean wasn't gonna let me go today til I wrote more of this.)

Dean slept in the wash of love fitfully. He didn’t know where all of it was coming from or how he could deserve it. But it was the most amazing thing he had ever felt. The idea that some of this was coming from Sam was both the least probable and most probable explanation that Dean could wrap his mind around. The love dug into every crevice, knocking loose that goddamn pain again, of Sam leaving him and Dad (leaving him with Dad) for school, and how alone he’d been after that, pushed down lower in the barrel with all of Dad’s drill seargent shit.

When Sam left, he’d known what he was doing, right?

He’d known he was doing that, hadn’t he?

But Dean burrowed deeper, under that, and curled up in his feeling of safety, sitting here with Sam in the car.

Dad hadn’t been here in years, had pinged around the country, ignoring his sons, sure, but that was...that was most definitely for the best.

And so there was Sam. And this...flood, however they had found it, of love. Maybe it piped to them from Jessica, but maybe it was a feedback loop he and Sam had built, one Dean had forgotten or never known how to get to.

Maybe this was for him and Sam. Maybe this _was_ him and Sam.

He looked around. Then he felt through the bond as thoroughly as he could. Jess was quiet. Jess was… This was… probably a bad topic.

No. He’d focus on Sam. 

Little Sam. Not so little anymore. But in the sea with him, the sea of the love they had been building together for all this time, a place in his mind he’d just found the way to access again.

And gently, he took off his jacket and draped it over Sam as he slept, pushing his giant moose bangs out of his eyes.

Sam let out a soft sound. Then he nestled closer against Dean and Dean thought how much he didn’t deserve it, not one bit of it.

Soft music that wasn’t his floated through his mind, and Jess’ voice. _What if you deserved it all, Dean? What if you both did?_

His heart thudded in his chest, and he even tried to close the door on the flood of love that was reaching him. _Jess, no. I don’t. You can’t._

Everything got louder. The flood of energy, the music, everything.

 _When you feel the most this way, Dean_ , she said gently, _You’re loved the most. I’m right here. And I see you._

Dean slumped. _Don’t say stuff like that, Jess. I know you weren’t exactly pleased to see me when we met, and I wouldn’t be either, I’m--_

_Dean. What do you think Sam told me? I was shocked you got away._

Dean blinked into the darkness. And this time when he pulled Sam close to him, it was from need and pain.

She always knew how to break him open.

*~*~*

The conversation stalled there for several days. Dean knew Sam and Jess were comparing notes quietly beside him as he drove aimlessly. He didn’t question it. He didn’t try to stop them. He drove on autopilot and thought to himself _Sam isn’t dead, he could be dead but he isn’t dead._

He thought briefly of Bobby acting like his father was a ghost, but he couldn’t keep his mind on John Winchester anymore. He just...couldn’t. It just wasn’t even that easy anymore to waste thought on someone who hated him so much, and that had to be a good sign, right?

Sam sat close to him, so close to him, on the bench seat, like he knew Dean was so close to shaking apart. 

Now that Dean had experienced their bond for an extended period of time, it was hard for him really to deal with the less connected times, and everyone knew it.

It was almost like the smaller things, the ones their father had felt were so important, meant so much less than they ever had in the past.

Dean was able to separate what his father wanted (endless revenge) from what Dean wanted, and what Sam had said he wanted.

He knew what these things were, and that they were separate.

Believing that he deserved them, though… That was a major hurdle that remained.

Maybe one day he would be there.

For now, he settled back into the sea of energy that powered his family’s psychic bond and he allowed himself to rest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long and necessary talk with Dean and Dean's feelings.
> 
> I'm trying to finish book 3 before I leave for Christmas, because after Christmas I'll need another physical recovery period and probably won't be writing much. So brace yourself for as much of this as I can get done.

Dean woke again with a start, like realizing he was coming back into a bad dream. What the hell was he doing, really? 

The question was big enough to wake him from sleep. But before he could get a real grip on his answer, Sam woke next to him.

_Dammit, Sammy._

“Sam…”

He looked around, as if pinning down where Jess was in the ether could tell him if she was listening.

He felt rather than saw Jess do the equivalent of raise an eyebrow and then brush lightly past him. _It’s okay, Dean. There’s some things I can do up here._

Dean had to work to steady his breathing as Jess blipped out.

“Sam…” he said once she was gone, “Sammy.”

“Yeah, Dean. Morning, dude. I’m here.”

“Why is it like this, Sam?”

“Defenses ripping down, Dean?” Dean let out a breath, then shrugged. It moved from a shrug into a shiver. He was a little bit cold, and he let (somehow he let) Sam wrap him back in his jacket. “What do you say to us finding real beds tonight, Dean?”

“I like...the Impala, though, Sam. The way Jess…”

Sam smiled a little. “I know, but real sleep counts for something too. Jess comes with us, remember? She’s not trapped in the car.”

“Sammy, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“All this. It’s not… This isn’t something I’m proud of.”

“Dean. You’ve been so happy. I’ve felt some of it. Not all of it. But enough. There aren’t secrets anymore, and if you want Jess in our family, that’s all I’ve wanted.”

“But I….”

“It’s hard not to love her,” Sam said quietly. “I was keeping secrets from her, Dean, and I shouldn’t have. I mean, look at the learning curve she took on. Talk about being chronically underestimated by her loser boyfriend, Dean.”

“You’re not a loser.”

“No. She doesn’t think so…”

“Sammy, you’ve got a great heart.”

“Dean,” Sam said, soft and serious, “Whatever I am today, I learned it from you.”

*~*~*

“Even when it was learning what not to be?” Dean asked. He had taken a few minutes to let that sink in, actually sink in, and permeate his heart.

Sam laughed. “Of course. Especially then, Dean, but I know…” He shrugged. “You’ve got a gooey center. When you want to.”

Dean sighed. “Fine, Sam. Okay. You know what would be good?” his voice rose steadily in emotion, “It could stop being so gooey any time now.”

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Would you trade her back? Would you trade this back?”

Everything about the insides of Dean did the opposite of getting less gooey.

“No, Sam. Dammit, Sammy. No. Sam, you’re supposed to be upset.”

“Why? I feel what you feel.”

“...Okay,” Dean said slowly.

“This whole time, you’ve fought for her. You’ve grieved for her. Then you’ve fought for her some more, Dean. I’m not going to stand in your way. We’re going to find a way. Together. If...if you want my help.”

“This is maybe the craziest thing we’ve ever done, Sam,” Dean said.

“Yeah. Maybe it is. But I guess we’re...we’re like that.”

“Sam, just answer one thing for me.”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“Do you want this as much as I do?”

“Dean, think about what you want for five seconds.”

“That’s not why I’m askin’, Sammy. This is your girl.”

Sam looks down at the ring on his finger. Then he jiggles his jacket pocket a little so Dean can hear the box for the other ring as it’s currently sitting there, close to his heart.

“Yes, Dean. And I want what you want, too. And it … I could be wrong, but I think it’s what she wants too. So...would you give it to her?”

Dean’s insides are jello again. “What I want...is not…”

“Dean….”

“No, listen, Sammy.” Dean pulls back a little bit. He’s not going to touch Sam. Not now. “What I want is not to break her heart. That’s what I want.”

Sam pauses. Then he says something in a rush. “And-what-I-want-is-not-to-break-yours.”

“Sammy, what? That’s not a good reason--”

“Yes it _is_ , Dean. Yes it _is_. I trust you. Don’t you see that? Don’t you see I’ve always trusted you? This is the way we’ve built a family, Dean. And the bullshit… it’s almost over. It’s almost over, Dean. Just let it be over. Let us be a family.”

Sam stared him straight in the eye. “I need this too. If we can do it, then I need her home. Too. I owe her that. If it’s what she wants… Dean, I got her killed, and if I can still give her something she wants...then I owe her that. I have to, Dean.”

Dean stops dead for a second and clears his throat. “Fine, Sam. So, we do this. Just...don’t forget you’re part of the something she wants. Don’t you ever take off that ring. That’s what started this whole thing.”

“I won’t.”

“Sammy. Call your girl home.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voicemail.

Dean thinks about sending Sam out to pay for the gas, or pick up the food, before the next part of his plan.

That wouldn’t exactly be showing trust, though, would it. And what Dean has planned now, has been planning in the back of his mind, it’s his moment but it’ll be sweeter, he thinks, with his family there.

It’s been two years and sixty five days since he made the last phone John Winchester had a number for into a burner. And Sam and Jess, they both know Dean’s stuck to that, as hard as he ever sticks to anything. He keeps the damn thing, but he hasn’t answered it, hasn’t checked the voicemail.

Hell, even Bobby figured it out after a while, and they haven’t exactly been in a sharing and caring space with Bobby since all this started.

 _I think I’m ready_ , Dean says on a Thursday, and he can feel Jessica’s smile. He can feel Sam’s exhale too.

He doesn’t have to tell them what he’s ready to do.

They know.

He even lets his brother get an arm around him and lets him and Jess enfold him in golden thoughts before he dials the number.

He’s played cat and mouse with John Winchester to have bet right that today, in this moment, with the support of the cosmos, the call goes right to voicemail.

“Listen, Dad,” he says, with just enough bite in the title, but not too much, “I think you’ve figured this out by now. But it’s time to make things official. I’m with Sam. And I have a family, Dad, a real one. I’m not yours to command like this is the Marines. It’s just not going to happen anymore, no matter what you do. I’m no longer interested in playing the game. If me and Sam hunt, we hunt. If we don’t, we don’t. I think we helped you avoid something big, and if we did, great. You don’t help your family, Dad, and if you ever call me again, I’m not answerin’. What you did to me and Sam, it wasn’t right, and now it’s done.”

Dean clicked off the line.

He thought about calling Bobby, and then he did, like ripping the bandaid off. He called the line that was still reserved for family calls. “Hey, Bobby. Listen. If you see John Winchester...just know it ain’t on account of me and Sam. We cut the line of communication, okay?”

Bobby answers in a slightly dazed tone. “I know you had, Dean--”

“Permanently, Bobby. So you don’t have to put up with his shit anymore. No one does.”

“Okay, Dean,” Bobby answers, bemused.

“And I’m sorry if you ever had to.”

“He’s a good hunter, but a pretty bad man,” Bobby says evenly. “I’m proud of you, son.”

“It’s over, Bobby,” Dean says.

“I know. Good and clean break?”

“Good and clean as it’ll ever get.”

“Good job, kid. Tell Sam I said hi.”

“I will, Bobby, thanks.”

And then it’s done. Over.

It’s one of the hardest moments Dean’s ever had in his life, something he’s thought over and replayed for years in what amounts to the remains of the privacy of his own thoughts. At times he’s wanted to make things “right” somehow with John, but now he knows too much has happened. He’s his own man now and it’s as he said to begin with. Family isn’t the people who hurt you, not as bad as their dad did when he separated him and Sam, even from the beginning.

He realizes now there’s stunned silence coming from two minds that lie entwined with his.

“Dean….” Sam says softly.

“You can read my mind, Sammy, but I dunno if you ever thought I’d do that.”

“No. I didn’t know. I wasnt sure.”

Dean nods, the expression one of military precision. “Yeah. I know.”

“Dean, do you want a beer?”

“No, Sam.”

“Or...you know….whatever?”

“No, Sam. I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“I wanna figure the rest of this mess out. I want our family in one piece. You with me?”

“Yeah, Dean. I’m with you.”

_I’m with you, too._

Dean’s heart thunders in his ears. _Me too, Jess. Me too._ He leans back, letting the flood take him again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for today. Book 3 is pouring out of me because it's taken so long to get to this stuff. (I wasn't expecting 3+ weeks off this thing.) Sorry I'm the spam-master today. And yes, this is a weird bunny. Bear with me on this, I just have to get this thing out of my brain.

The next day, Sam finds him when he’s going through the back of the Impala. Under the weapon’s rack and wedged among the blankets is a case of beer. Sure, it barely fits in there, but it’s there, the “emergency stash.”

Dean raises an eyebrow pointedly at Sam, then raises the bottle of alcohol in his hand as if in a toast and then lets it smash on the asphalt, completely full.

“I’d ask...but…”

Dean chuckles, dry and low in his throat. “Don’t ask, Sam.”

“Dean. I don’t really have to. I think you’re in love.”

He pauses. He can’t help himself. “Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Is this the kind of thing they taught you to do with your gigantic brain when you were at school?”

“Something like that, maybe, Dean. But I just know you.”

“It’s weird. I’d just like to let you know I think the whole thing’s weird. You’re being weird. Shit’s weird.”

“Okay, but you just told Dad off for the first time in living memory and you’re quitting booze, so whatever it is, I’ll take it.”

“Even if it’s at your own expense?”

“Dean.”

“What?”

“It’s not. It’s… It’s not at my own expense for you to feel better.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Or for you to stop self-destructing.”

Dean stops what he’s doing with four beers left in the case. “Yeah, Sam. I feel better. I feel safer. I feel…”

Sam picks up one of the beers, offers Dean a questioning look. Dean nods. The bottle smashes.

“I feel better,” Dean says quietly. “It’s like…”

“Yeah?”

“It’s like knowing what family is,” Dean says.

“It is,” Sam says.

“Maybe it’s weird. We’re always weird, Sam.”

“That’s the thing that makes us cool, Dean. It’s what makes us work. I don’t know a lot of families like ours.”

Dean chuckles. “So….”

“Yeah?”

“I dunno, I guess that’s it, all this, it made me feel better. I wasn’t expecting any of that.”

“But it did. And that’s the good part, Dean. All the rest, we’ll work it out.”

Dean nods, going quiet for a bit.

“We dodged something big,” Sam says.

“We really, really did, Sam.”

*~*~*

That night, for once Sam falls asleep before Dean. The exhaustion Dean has been feeling because of the learning curve he has been on is no joke. The headaches have mostly subsided, but he’s not sure if that’s related to how much he’s sleeping, or what.

Tonight, though, he’s awake and Jess is awake.

“You really want to come back to Sam--to us?” he asks her.

_Every minute of every day. Dean...it’s…_

“What, Jess? Are you safe up there?”

_Safe, sure. Yes. I’m safe, Dean. But, I mean, there’s politics. You wouldn’t believe how much politics there is to being dead. And I can see...see things, I can...make things be safer for you...but...there’s just more to it than that, Dean._

“What do you mean, Jess?”

“Well, down there, there’s...there’s Sam. There’s family. There’s my engagement ring. It’s physical, Dean. That’s not just a cheesy pop song lyric. It’s real. You’re there. And Dean, if there are any two people who can figure out...the kind of thing you’ve gotta figure out to get me home...it’s the two of you. And Dean?

“Yeah?”

_Do you know how proud of you I am? Do you know how much I want to show you? Down there?_

He actually hadn’t really thought that much about it. People being proud of him.

But now he does.

And what he’s pretty sure is that no matter what happens, he really loves her. The girl who has managed to teach him what family is supposed to be. What family is.

*~*~*

It hits Dean later, what he’s actually done. He has closed the door. He and Sam are both estranged from some man who was always more military personnel than father.

And maybe that has to be alright.

Before it is though, it hits him like a one-two punch in the face and the gut. 

And when it does, Sam and Jess are still there. Sam enfolds him in light and pulls him into the warmest hug he’s ever felt, like Sam’s been waiting his whole life for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be updated again after I return from the holidays, and I may have a physical recovery period after traveling. I'm also in a couple of fests. I'll get back to this as soon as I can.


	7. Part 2

It’s quiet for a few days. Dean eats, but he doesn’t eat burgers for every meal, and he even has a beer on the fourth day. 

Just one beer, because it’s enough for right then.

He doesn’t want to lose too much of himself, not that way, not right now.

He’s going to figure this out.

On a day when Sam is out on a run, he takes the car down to an actual store and picks up a Netbook. When he takes it out the first time, Sam gives him a weird look.

“What, dude? It was cheap. I need a search engine too.”

“And…”

“And nothing. Stop it, Sam, get out of my face. I’m working the case.”

“Oh,” Sam says, and it’s a little quiet, but then he nods.

“You know, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes it’s like our lives our the case.”

“Don’t I know it.”

*~*~*

They don’t hunt as much as they did when Sam was home before. Or, really, as much as John Winchester does. With Jess out there in the ether, less nonsense seems to befall them.

Dean’s been researching for a few months when she gently asks him, _Do you want me to stay here? To help you?_

At first he pretends not to hear. He looks over at Sam to see if he heard it, and he’s not sure. Sam is keeping his features steady, but he’s always a little close to--

To how Dean feels now with his chest blowing apart.

 _I don’t deserve it_ , Dean thinks, soft. _But maybe Sam does._

 _That’s not how it works_ , Jess says. _Everyone deserves it. Everyone gets it. We just don’t usually tell people. Not everyone is a Winchester._

Dean gives that a little smiley-smirk as he’s wont to do.

 _Well, that makes sense_ , he says darkly.

*~*~*

“Jess?” he asks out loud, though quietly, one early morning while Sam sleeps. “If you left. If you come to be with us again, in the--flesh, uh. Would Sam be in trouble? Danger?”

_No, Dean. There’s...well...no. Heaven, it contains multitudes._

 

He nods at no one, feeling trust swell in his chest. It fills him with a sudden peace.

 _Sam’s alright_ , she whispers. _And you and me--we’ll be alright too. I’ll make sure._

And he believes her.

*~*~*

A few days later, it’s Jess who starts talking first.

_Your dreams, Dean. Think about your dreams._

What? What about them? Since when has he had any--

_Your sleeping dreams. I could meet you there._

Just like that, his heart is beating so fast.

_Jess. Please._

The thought escapes before he can stop it.

 _I can._ She says it before he can even ask for any kind of confirmation. _It’s almost our birth--_

Dean blinks. He doesn’t say anything back. Something--

“Hey, Dean,” Sam says from behind his laptop, “Want anything for your birthday?”

“Okay, that’s just…” Dean says, “You two…. That’s a little….”

Sam looks a little surprised, like maybe he didn’t do it on purpose, but then he smiles. “Come on, not any weirder than a mind meld. Jess and I’ve finished each other’s sentences from the beginning.”

“Yeah, Sam, that’s not, um…”

_Helping. Not helping._

But he can’t say that to Sam. He doesn’t know what’s safe to say to Sam anymore. When everything should be, instead nothing, or very little, is.

“Hey. Let me help with the research, okay? Maybe we can figure something out so--on your birthday--for your birthday--”

“Sam...weird. Officially weird.”

“Yeah, maybe. But listen. I’ve been researching and--Jess says she can...”

But Sam fades out a little as Jess fills his awareness.

 _It’s like I said, Dean. I can meet you in your dreams. Dean, we need some time to talk_ , Jess says.

They’re talking now.

But he feels the vague pressure of a no.

 _Face to face_ , comes the whisper of thought.

Dean breaks into a sweat. “I--uh--” He swallows. Sam has stopped talking. “Yeah. Sure. I guess that makes sense.”

“Dean,” Sam says, soft and low, “Don’t be scared. Not of Jess. Or me.”

What is with Sam, anyway? Still, he has a point. There’s no use being scared of Jessica. Of Sam. Right?

“Well, when you put it that way, Sammy…”

“I do.”

Things are slowly adding up to show the picture of what this all means.

Still, Dean can barely breathe.

“Sammy,” he says, quiet, “Why?”

“Because we love you, Dean. That’s all. Because we love you.” 

There’s the slightest emphasis on the word love. And no matter what it reallly means, it makes Dean’s heart go.


	8. Chapter 8

He can’t help it. He knows Sam thinks he means what he says he means, but… the next few days are tense for him.

And all he can think, really, is for all his psychology brain and ability to calm down a civilian, Sam’s communication with him _really sucks_. 

Of course, if there’s a traitor here, it’s probably Dean, but he doesn’t understand what the hell Sam is thinking will happen.

All he knows is that when he thinks of getting closer to Jess, that he is overwhelmed with how much he wants it to happen.

*~*~*

They have a plan. A plan Sam’s being quiet about, really. He says it’s because he wants to give Dean and Jess time. The time they need, he says.

Sam is very strange, Dean’s decided.

Very strange.

 _We’ll talk about it_ , Jess says gently, unworried.

Jess is never worried about anything “up there,” and Dean doesn’t really understand what that would feel like, or why she’d want to give it up.

Sometimes he feels her almost shrugging. _It’s hard to explain. You’re important._

Important?

Still, when he thinks of Sam, he remembers that one person is.

He doesn’t even know what he’s doing. But when has he ever?

*~*~*

He doesn’t tell her how he barely recognizes himself anymore. It’s almost like he can feel the ways he would be different if none of this had ever happened to him. 

He would hate and fear the supernatural.

He would even hate and fear Sam, in a weird, distant way that he’d never admit.

Well, he still fears Sam now.

Not like Sam is plotting anything devious. He’s pretty sure. Not that type of fear.

More that somehow, Sam’s ripped him open and gotten to the core of him.

Both of them have, in equal measure. And all Sam’s really done is throw his quiet support behind Jess.

Seriously, Sam’s the talker and he’s being deliberately quiet and really measured with his words. He lets Jess lead in a way Dean never really expected. 

Something is seriously going on, and Dean doesn’t really get where Sam and Jess are getting the privacy to discuss it--him.

Then again, maybe the trick is that they don’t have to, that they’re actually not.

He doesn’t really like the feeling that he’s in a zoo exhibit.

But every time he senses Jess, well, his senses are going haywire but he doesn’t feel any fear, and there’s not a drop of animosity from Jess. He remembers she can’t feel that where she is.

All she brings him is peace, and he knows that.

He hates to do it, but he calls for her softly, like if he’s just quiet about it it won’t be that noticeable.

 _Dean_ , comes the whisper as he gets her attention, _Gotcha._

Dean lets it all go again with a sigh.


	9. Chapter 9

When Dean walks in with a bag of food from down the street, he finds Sam sitting at the small table in the corner of their room, turning a beer in his hands.

“Dean, hey.”

“Hey, Sam,” Dean says, measured but inevitably curious.

“I got that,” Sam says, pulling a small stack of paper plates closer to him and laying two out.

“Sam? You okay?”

“Dean, I…”

He braces himself for whatever Sam is about to say, his gut and throat clenching a bit, though he keeps his tone light.

“Spit it out, Sam.”

“There’s some stuff I haven’t been...saying outright. You know. We don’t always need words anymore. But. I know you’ve felt weird. And I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry I’ve played a part in that. We’ll work it out, right?”

Dean blinks, wondering what exactly Sam means when he says there’s something to work out.

It could mean so many things. And as much as they don’t need the words--something he’s especially felt with Jess--he is left wondering what Sam means by all this.

All of it. Almost every second of it.

Something is going on and--

“I just, well, Dean, you know Dad, he made me keep things close to the vest too, you know? And I haven’t entirely unlearned that.”

“Are you saying you’re lying to me, Sam?”

Sam blinks. “No. No, no. I just…”

“Well, then, we’re good, okay?”

“We are?”

“Sure. I mean, we can be, right?”

Sam smiles a little. “Yeah, Dean. Things are actually better than they’ve ever been, aren’t they?”

“Sort of, Sam. You got anything you’re mad at me for?”

“What? No! No! Why would I?”

“I mean, Sam…..”

“Dean, I’m not.”

“Okay. Maybe you should just come out and say...whatever it is you need to say, though.”

Sam sighs. “Well, let’s start here. I really want you to have a good birthday. I’ve felt…. I think I understand. And I don’t feel an ounce of anything bad. So Dean...have a good birthday. I think it’s going to be great.”

“You are officially the weirdest brother I’ve ever had. But also officially, I’ll take that, put it in my pipe and smoke it or whatever the kids are saying these days.”

“Good. You do that. Dork.”

“Oh, I’m the dork.” Dean grins.

“I just want you to have a good time, Dean. I do.”

“I know, Sasquatch. Thanks.”

Weird as it is, he’s pretty convinced that Sam is telling the truth.


	10. Chapter 10

January twenty-third, coming up on midnight. Dean is scared, and full of wonder.

 _Happy birthday, Dean_ , Jess says softly. 

He clears his throat. “Happy birthday, Jess,” he replies, and his voice is not-shaking, not going to shake dammit.

Dean has downed this weird herb they got from who knows where, and he’s not sure if it will work but Jess says it will and he’ll--he’ll try anything at this point.

Anything. Please.

He feels the static-buzz of Jess’ presence against his skin. She takes his hand and whispers _Breathe. Almost here._

His breath catches in his throat anyway. He closes his eyes and he’s beside her. She is ghost-wispy and insubstantial.

“Jess?” he asks, forcing calm into his voice. 

_Come here, Dean._ He steps in time with her, still holding her barely-there hand. 

They move through a doorway together, Jess leading and watching him closely. _Okay. Gotcha._

And he knows she does. He knows she does.

As they cross the threshhold, her hand becomes solid in his.

*~*~*

He inhales sharply. “Jess,” he says.

“Dean.”

She speaks out loud, and he can hear her voice, the one she had as a human, for the first time in over two years.

To say it makes him weak in the knees…

Shock races through him.

“Jess...I mean...Jess?”

“Right here, sweetheart. Come on, sit down.” She leads him further into the room, a cottage. Even though he really does need to sit, he looks around swiftly, evaluating, working the--

“No, Dean, just sit. Breathe.”

And he remembers to, dream or not.

Outside the window, a light but steady snow falls.

The cottage is quaint, soft pastels and wicker, and mostly, it is quiet. It is him and Jess. Together. And she is solid. He can touch her, and there’s no ghostly missingness to her flesh.

Two hot cocoas appear on the wicker table.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” Jess says, this time full and rich, solid and real.

“Happy b-- how?”

“Love, sweetheart.”

“Jesus. Jess…”

He takes the hot cocoa with his hand, and the mug is solid and real too, the cocoa steaming hot.

“You’re amazing. You’re… you’re my angel.”

She smiles a little. “No, not an angel. They’re a slightly different creature.”

He brings the cocoa to his lips with one slightly shaking hand. It’s real, solid, too.

“Do you live here?” he asks, savoring the feel of the cup and the steam, the taste.

“Sometimes. Or I will now, sometimes, maybe. This...this is ours.” She takes a sip of the cocoa. “Mm. Been a while since something like this.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You do. Dive deep. Feel for what you know, Dean.”

He does, and he finds the pool of Jess-and-Sam-(and-Dean), the feedback loop of love that has propelled him to safety, propelled him through boundaries with John Winchester of all people, propelled him here.

“I…”

“We don’t need words. It’s like Sam says. But Dean.”

“Yes?”

“Dean, I love you. You deserved to know. This way. In person. Out loud.”

“My angel,” Dean whispers. Everything feels like it’s spinning. Like the cocoa was--somehow too much. “Thank you. I--”

“You don’t have to say it,” she whispers. “I know I may seem all-powerful, but I haven’t been perfect. Just… Just be here. Please.”

He stands up from the table and crosses to her, taking her in his arms. “Sweet angel.”

The words aren’t good enough.

_Feel for what you know._

He guides her hand over his heart and she lets him, rests it there.

“Dive deep,” he whispers. His voice is hoarse, like it knows how often he’s reaching her with his thoughts. “It’s all there.”

And she does.

Everything is light and color and love.

*~*~*

In the corner of the cottage is a bed covered in white sheets and a thin but surprisingly warm blanket. Dean has picked her up as the light continues to dance, and carries her over to the bed. “Rest with me,” he says, still hoarse and rough. Like his type of words don’t belong here without effort. “We’ll--”

She smiles. “Oh, I will. There’s so much, Dean. There’s so much.”

“Sam--?”

“Sam...Sam and I...we’ve never….”

Dean stops. “Never what? Never been unfaithful.”

“No. I mean, no. He hasn’t. But sweetheart, our idea of faithful...was always...bigger. It had to be,” Jess mused. “Sam’s a bit, um, adventurous might not be the word, but, well, so’m I. When we met, we didn’t even know… well, we weren’t expecting to end up together.”

“But you’re inseparable. Even God wouldn’t let you two separate.”

“Us three,” Jess said gently. “Dean, why do you count yourself out of everything you do, even when it’s right in front of you?”

“Just gotta protect Sammy,” he said, before he could stop himself.

“Yourself, Dean. You have to protect yourself, too. Count yourself. Oh, sweetie. Come here, Dean. C’mon.” She nestled against him, then tipped her head up and kissed him.

He hadn’t dared. Not yet. No.

The light all around them intensified, and he reflexively pulled her closer, making a sound deep in his throat. _Please. Never stop. Don’t let go. More. Please._

Jess answered his thought by kissing harder.

She adds her own litany as she kisses him. _I’m here. I’m here. The three of us. We’re tied together. No one can stop that. No one can stop us._

But something feels--

He tries curling closer against her, first.

Definitely Jess. He can feel her pinging around like normal in his head, along the bond. It’s just....

Something drase his attention to the window.

“Jess?”

“Mm, sweetheart?”

“When did it start raining?”

Jess squeezes his hand, and for the first time he realizes that she’s scared.

The air is suddenly cold, as if the windows blew open, and then there is, there’s wind, and it’s pushing him.

_No._

She won’t let him go, will she? She can’t let go.

But, he realizes, she can’t follow him where he’s being pushed to, either.

Because Jessica is dead. Undead. Dead.

And he’s a Winchester. And if it’s one thing Winchesters do, it’s live.

He loses his grip on her and the doorway slams open. 

He’s pushed through.

And when he wakes up in the motel room with Sam there’s a scream in his throat and tears on his cheeks.

*~*~*

She’s still there. She’s still there. She still emits enough love to power a small village. But she’s there and he’s here.

With Sam.

At least Sam isn’t trying to make him cocoa.

“Jesus, Dean,” Sam says. And, “You had no way to know what would happen.”

Sure. Great. Fine. But now he knows he’s stuck here, and Jess is stuck there, and it’s worse, it’s actually worse now than it’s been, and Sam didn’t see, and Sam can’t know, but he does know, of course he’ll know when he wants to know.

“Sam…”

“Dean. Come on. We’ll figure something out. Jess and I, we have faith in you. We love you. And I...I won’t let any of us fail. We won’t fall down, Dean. We’re still a family.”

And that’s when Dean reaches for Sam, tears fresh in his eyes, and Sam whispers his steady refrain, “I know. I gotcha.”

And Dean feels weak, but he knows there’s not really any other way to feel. Not now.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note that...I don't necessarily endorse the idea of Dean going cold turkey, I have a lot of feels on the particular topic of alcohol and alcohol abuse but I'm coming to a new understanding of it, but in any case, in this particular AU this is what Dean decided to do because he feels like his brain works better/he's calmer with the mind meld.
> 
> \- End of Book 3.


End file.
